


What The Fuck?

by Caliax



Category: If/Then RPF, Wicked RPF
Genre: F/F, Kinky, Powerplay, Smut, idinacest - Freeform, uhhhh I have no explanation for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 07:50:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3760408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caliax/pseuds/Caliax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Idina gets a surprise when she looks in the mirror.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What The Fuck?

Fuck. Fucking fuck-

“FUCK!”

Idina finished her point by whipping her blazer across her dressing room. It was followed by a dark wig. Two final exclamation points were made in the form of a pair of black heels. Statement made, Idina stood, chest heaving, in front of her mirror. What stared back at her was a – _striking, but not particularly attractive_ – face – _lined with wrinkles now_ –, with too sharp cheekbones, and two red rimmed orbs. A swirling mass of haphazardly maintained hair fell limply around her face, streaked with a blonde attempt at youth.

Idina saw the pale line of her stomach peeking underneath the shirt she wore. She noticed her roundness, noticed her width. Her hands gripped the edge of her chair, fingers vicelike and knuckles white. Yet her eyes never left the mirror. They never stopped noticing her imperfection, her failures. They noticed the wrinkles around her eyes. To the left, they noticed the now broken heel adorning a drawer; they saw just another reason for the producers to fire her.   Finally they drifted down, focusing on her still white knuckles. They glanced at the conspicuously bare ring finger.

Suddenly a hand swept furiously across the vanity, sending tiny bottles of make-up crashing onto the carpet and against the wall. Several shattered, painting the wall in apathetically vibrant splashes of colour. Rage unsated, Idina threw her hairdryer against the wall behind her, breaking it with a satisfying crack. Turning back around, her eyes drifted to the mirror. She saw her heaving breaths, bloodshot crazed eyes, and blotchy face. With a cry she picked up the wooden chair and threw it against the mirror. The mirror shattered at the point of impact, dozens of tiny shards falling like so many failed expectations. Spider web thin cracks spread, tearing apart her image, twisting and warping her image, leaving bloodless scars over her face. Taking in her shattered image, Idina collapsed to the floor, curling herself into a fetal position and letting her tears take her.

* * *

 

 “Hey. It’s me.”

Idina groggily woke to the sound of a woman’s voice. She lay on her side, with her head lying in the crook of her arm. Her legs remained curled to her stomach. Lifting her head, she took in her surroundings and thought, “ _Sleeping on the dressing room floor…fitting.”_

“Sweetie, I’m sure it’s comfortable down there, but c’mon.” The same voice shook her from her reverie. Idina noticed it now. At once low and sultry, it carried with it an undertone of mirth. With a start, Idina realized that the voice was her own. Or well, it was a version of her voice. Scrambling to stand, she whipped about, trying to identify the source of the voice.

“No wonder we’re so entertaining. We’re adorable.” The same voice sounded again.

“Where…what…are you? And who the fuck is we?” Idina shakily said.

“The mirror sweetie.”

Perplexed, Idina took cautious steps towards the mirror. She stopped, staring intently at the webbed lines still impressing themselves upon her face. Her face was still blotchy and tear stained, her eyes were still red-rimmed, and her hair was still a mess.

Both crestfallen and annoyed, Idina murmured, “Oh fuck off.”

But then she noticed…her reflection’s lips didn’t move. Furthermore, the reflection quirked an eyebrow.

“What in the fuck!?” Idina yelled. “Who the fuck are you, and what the…and why…” Idina trailed off as she noticed her perception of the reflection begin to change. The woman, for Idina refused to call it herself, seemed to be at once both young and old. Her skin was smooth and flawless, yet there were lines around her eyes. Her hair was lustrous and full, framing the woman’s face perfectly. On her face her cheekbones seemed defined instead of severe, and her eyes twinkled with both playfulness and wisdom.

Idina drifted unsteadily on her feet. Her mouth opened and closed in shock. The reflection threw her head back, letting out a cackle; a perfect version of Idina’s own laugh.

Idina promptly collapsed for the second time that day.

* * *

 

Idina woke once more on her dressing room floor. Her arm was numb, her back was sore, her mouth was dry, and her ass was freezing. Glancing briefly at the clock, she saw that it was almost four in the morning. Propping herself on her elbow, she looked around the room, taking in the devastation left in the wake of her earlier anger. The left wall that she had swept her makeup and cosmetics against was stained, the various fluids and creams doing their best imitation of a half-finished Pollock. Turning her gaze towards the back wall, she nonchalantly observed her broken hairdryer. The outer shell had cracked apart but not fallen away completely, baring its insides as it lay pathetically on the floor. In front of her lay the chair she’d thrown against the mirror.

Remembering the events leading up to her second collapse, Idina suddenly pushed herself onto her feet. She was hit by a wave of light-headedness, her vision blurring and her unsteady form faltering. Quickly, she staggered towards the vanity, half mindedly avoiding the shards of glass there. She stared at the mirror, not daring to move a muscle, or even breathe.

“H-hello?” Idina asked tentatively.

She was answered only by the quiet humming of the theatre and the almost imperceptible whirring of the fluorescent beams above.

Idina continued to stare intently at the mirror, awaiting any movement. It remained unresponsive. Her hand jerked up to wave hesitantly. The mirror only reflected her movements.

“Fuck it.” Idina uttered out loud, giving voice to the insanity of the situation.

Deciding that she shouldn’t spend the rest of the evening in her dressing room, she grabbed her purse, flicked off the lights, and hailed a cab home.

* * *

 

The chirping birds and warm sun were altogether too cheery, leaving Idina irritated and grouchy. The sounds of the city could be heard through her windows, reminding her that the world unsympathetically refused to fuck off.

She was standing in front of the granite island in her kitchen, having woken up to the 8AM alarm she usually set for two show days. She was sluggishly preparing a breakfast bowl of fruit. The knife felt heavy and unwieldy in her hand. She casually observed how it sliced so easily through the strawberries, leaving slight trails of red juice behind.

Finishing, she tossed the knife into the sink, put her breakfast in a bowl and dropped herself onto a seat at the glass kitchen table. She turned on the radio and began to pick away at her breakfast.

_I should probably call the theatre and ask someone to clean up my shit._

Grabbing her nearby phone, she called the manager on duty. The manager let her know that the cleaning staff had already taken care of it. She apologized profusely and offered some bullshit excuse involving alcohol and a phone call, letting him know that she would pay for it all personally and that it would never happen again. 

_“And now, in studio, we have with us the beautiful, talented, incomparable, Kristin Chenoweth!”_

Idina snapped out of her sleepy haze at the name, her fork slipping from her hand and clattering to the table.

“ _So Kristin, how excited are you to be back on Broadway in – oh what is it –”_

_“It’s called On The Twentieth Century and oh gosh Carol I’m so glad to be back…”_

Idina listened in a focused daze. She listened to the inane prattle of the airheaded interviewer and she listened to Kristin’s over-perfect responses.

_“So Kristin, you’re recently single, have you been getting back in to the dating scene?”_

Idina froze at the question. A cowardly part of her yearned to snatch the remote and shut off the radio, but she resisted the urge.

_“Ha! Carol I’m so busy with this show right now I don’t have time to date! But, you know, I think I just haven’t met the right person yet and it just wasn’t meant to happen.”_

Idina’s heart gave a pang in response. _You weren’t the right person. You weren’t the right person for her, or for Taye, and that’s why you’re eating breakfast alone while your son is with your ex-husband._ The torturous thoughts gripped her mind, and suddenly everything was too loud, her mouth tasted of ash, and her head pulsed with pain. In an effort to stop it Idina grabbed the remote and powered off the radio. She massaged her forehead in silence, willing herself to stand and go to her bathroom.

She stripped off her clothes and turned the shower to just south of scalding. Stepping in, she enjoyed the exquisite sensation of near pain, however it was not enough to melt away her troubles.

Still feeling depressed, she stepped out into the now steamy bathroom. She toweled herself dry and went to the sink to begin her daily cleansing rituals. She wiped the condensation from the mirror, giving a frightful yelp when she saw what it revealed.

Slightly to her right, stood the reflection. She leaned against the wall, arms crossed over her bare breasts. Idina quickly turned around, only to discover that there was no one standing there. She looked back at the mirror, finding the reflection giving her an amused smirk.

“What the fuck!?” Idina exclaimed in shock. “Who are you, and why do you look like me and why are you here and why the fuck is this happening and –”

“In time gorgeous.” The reflection interrupted her.

Idina was suddenly aware that she was naked, and that her reflection was too. She noticed the reflection’s taut stomach and flawless skin, all too obviously emphasizing her own imperfections. Flustered, she grabbed the nearby towel and wrapped it around herself.

“You know, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of anyway.” The reflection let out in a low, almost seductive, tone.

“You’re hilarious.” Idina deadpanned. “Now are you going to answer my damn questions or what?”

The reflection let out a sigh. “Fine. I’m you.”

“No, you’re not. You’re a part of my imagination because I’m fucking nuts.”

The reflection sighed again. “You’re not, not nuts I mean, but if that’s what you want to believe than that’s fine for now.”

Idina paused, staring intently at the reflection. She seemed content to stare right back, watching with that infinitely irritating grin.

“…What do you want?” Idina huffed.

“You mean you aren’t just going to stand there and ogle me?” The reflection responded. “I want to help you.”

“My imagination must be crazier than I thought.”

“Is it crazy for me to say that you aren’t happy right now?”

Idina responded angrily. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Leave me the fuck alone.”

“Tell me, right now, that you’re happy, and I’ll leave.” The reflection challenged.

Idina opened her mouth to say the words, but she couldn’t. Her life was a fucking mess

“We could never say things that we didn’t feel.” The reflection stated softly.

Idina closed her eyes at that. A stray tear escaped from her eye, and she furiously brushed it away. Her chest ached, and her body began to tremble. It felt like she couldn’t take enough air into her lungs.

“Don’t cry. Just breathe. I’ll help you.” Idina felt the voice get closer.

“Breathe with me. Just breathe. You can do this.” Idina heard more than felt the breaths. Idina breathed, in time, slow and deep.

Idina felt her hair being swept over one shoulder. Warm, soft hands began to massage her neck. Occasionally those hands would drift upwards and run calmingly over her scalp. “You’ll be okay. You’re going to get through this.” The voice soothingly whispered. Idina stood there, slowly letting the world come back into focus. All that existed was the voice in her ear, the sensations travelling over her skin, and the air rhythmically flowing through her.

“It’ll all be okay.” The voice reassured her. Idina felt the fingers leave her back, but not before smoothing a thumb over her shoulder. Idina looked back at the mirror to find the reflection gone.

“…When will I see you again?” Idina called out?

She didn’t receive a response.

* * *

 

Idina walked into her refurbished dressing room. The mirror was replaced, the wall had been cleaned, and the floor had been swept. They’d even replaced all the make-up she would need, as well as the heel she’d broken. All in all, it was as if last night had simply been a nightmare.

It was a little past noon, with less than two hours before the matinee. Idina began eating absentmindedly at the sandwich she’d brought. Her thoughts turned to the events of the morning. _I was speaking to a naked version of me, and then I had a panic attack, and then naked reflection me calmed me down by touching me and whispering in my ear, and then she disappeared. What the fuck._

Idina recalled how it had felt when those warm hands had brushed her hair to the side, and slowly rubbed her muscles. It had been so long since she was touched. Actually touched, not on a stage, or a random brush in the hall, but rather something intimate and personal. _Several months ago when you drunk dialed Kristin?_ Idina scowled at the memory, remembering that afterwards Kristin had left, leaving Idina in her drunken misery. She focused on the brief moment, when, after she had calmed down, she could take in the thrilling sensation of the reflection’s fingers softly dancing over the planes of her back. She could recall how the reflection had whispered so sweetly in her ear, how she’d been pressed so comfortingly against her back.

Idina blushed, realizing that she’d been having…rather intimate thoughts about a woman who looked exactly like her. But still, she wanted to see her again, if only to have a point of human contact who didn’t judge her, and didn’t expect anything of her.

Finishing her lunch, Idina sat down and began to prepare for her matinee. But as she looked into the mirror, she was again reminded of the other reflection who had shared her mirrors in the past dozen or so hours.

“Hey…are you here?” Idina said, self-conscious of the fact that she was speaking aloud in an empty room.

No answer.

“You know, you could goddamn show up for once instead of showing up when I’m naked and scaring the shit out of me.” Idina said.

Again, only silence greeted her.

“Ugh fine, well you can fuck right off then.” Idina huffed.

* * *

Idina headed to her dressing room with a faint smile on her face. The sounds of the orchestra could still be heard in the background. She hadn’t fucked up too badly. Arriving at her dressing room, she quickly changed out of her costume and wig, giving them to her dresser Joby.

After finishing a snack, Idina decided that she would do a round of yoga. She quickly changed into her gym clothes and pulled the yoga mat from her closet. Laying it down on her carpet, she sat down and assumed the lotus pose. She held it for a minute, breathing steadily. She stood, before assuming the half-moon pose, lifting her right leg into the air, placing her left hand on the floor, and lifting her right arm into the air. She enjoyed the feeling of her body being held in perfect balance, allowing herself to get lost in the familiar burn. She grounded herself in the discomfort, the tortures of her mind fading away. She proceeded to assume the hand under foot pose, before switching to the chair pose. She could feel the beads of sweat rolling down her back, her stomach.

“Looking good hottie.”

This time though, Idina barely startled. Instead, she assumed the eagle pose, looking towards the mirror. There, sitting in the mirrored chair with her legs crossed, was the reflection. Once again, her outfit mirrored her own. She was wearing the same black sports bra, and the same black yoga pants.

“Like what you see?” Idina bantered back, still holding the pose.

“Mhmm.” The reflection gave Idina’s body a once over, before looking into Idina’s eyes with an almost predatory gleam. Idina felt a slight shiver crawl up her spine.

“Stop, this is…weird.” Idina said.

“Oh, I’m just appreciating your gorgeous ass.” The reflection replied with a mischievous grin.

“Give me a break. I’m old and I’ve had a baby and –“

“And you’re still beautiful. Don’t you dare believe for a second that you aren’t.” The reflection interrupted, her tone both serious and sincere.

Idina couldn’t think of a proper reply to that. After several minutes filled with only the sound of her breathing, she resumed the lotus pose, ending her session.

“I’m going to shower now. Don’t look perv.” Idina said. The reflection only rolled her eyes in response.

Idina stepped into the shower, stripping off her sweaty garments as she went. As per her usual ritual, she sat down on the stool inside and began to warm up. She washed up as she sang, the mindless motions allowing her to focus on her voice. 

After 30 minutes, she stepped out of the shower, towelling herself off and, remembering her guest, wrapping it around herself. As she stepped in front of the mirror, she saw the reflection, still sitting there, but this time in a towel.

“You really are talented you know.” The reflection said when she sat down.

“Tell that to all the people I fucked up in front of yesterday. Tell that to those twitter douchebags.” Idina responded.

“You only make those mistakes because you feel too much.”

“I’m a fucking performer, people don’t come to hear me miss notes.”

“You’re not a robot. People come to see you because you’re real, and passionate.”

“Okay fine, so there’s one part of my life that I don’t completely suck at.” Idina angrily conceded. The reflection waited, waited for Idina to continue.

“I’m not loved. Kristin left, and Taye’s gone, and I’m going to die, alone, with my son on the other side of the country because I’m too much of a fucking mess to be his mom. Don’t you see? I’m fucking pathetic! I’m old, and ugly, and unlovable. Taye’s moved on, and I wasn’t enough for Kristin. Fuck I’m not good enough for anyone!” Idina finished, in tears now.

Idina’s eyes were closed, and when she opened them, she saw that the reflection was now behind her. The reflection ran her fingers over Idina’s collarbones, over her shoulders. She threaded her fingers through Idina’s hair, gently massaging as she went.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. You’re beautiful. You’re fucking beautiful, and don’t you dare tell yourself you’re not. Taye…Kristin…what happened with them doesn’t mean anything. You’re enough. Fuck ‘em.” She finished by brushing the tears from Idina’s face.

“Look at yourself. You’re fucking hot.” Idina let out a small laugh at that, despite herself.

The reflection’s hands continued to run over Idina’s body, drifting over her back, shoulders, and chest. Idina closed her eyes, revelling in the sensation. The hands swept lower, barely brushing the top of her breasts, slowly travelling back up before leaving Idina’s body altogether. When Idina opened her eyes, the reflection was seated in front of her now, the desire in her eyes mirroring Idina’s own.

“…Take off the towel.”

Idina complied slowly, undoing the knot at her chest and letting the towel fall away. It slipped down her sides to reveal smooth, flushed skin. Her nipples were erect, revealing her arousal. The reflection was naked now as well, idly playing with one nipple.

“Look how beautiful you are.” The reflection said softly.

“Spread your legs. Put your ankles on the vanity.” The reflection commanded.

Idina did. Slowly, she placed her ankles on either side of the vanity, revealing her dripping wet core. Idina was embarrassed, to be exposed so fully. Yet the powerful gaze of the reflection was not to be denied.

“Touch yourself. Slowly.”

Idina’s hand slowly moved between her legs. One finger traced her moist lips, before running up and down her slit. Idina gasped as she rubbed herself quicker, her fingers slick with her own arousal.

“Fuck yourself, using two fingers.”

Idina entered herself soft gasp. She was fucking herself in earnest, fingers rhythmically slipping in and out of her core. She looked at the reflection, locking their eyes together. She knew she would not last long. She ground her palm into her clit, desperate for release.

“Don’t come. Tell me that you’re beautiful.”

“I…I’m beautiful.” Idina struggled to say through her breathless moans.

“Tell me that you’re worth it.”

Idina did, her hand still fucking herself under the reflection’s gaze.

“Tell me that you’re enough.”

“Fuck I’m enough.” Idina moaned.

“You may come now.”

Idina buried her fingers as deep as they would go, shoving her palm against her clit. Her free hand grasped wildly at her breast, pulling at her nipple. With a low keening moan, Idina climaxed, her back arching in orgasmic bliss.

Idina could hear the reflection whispering in her ear. “You were so good. You were so fucking good.”

Idina could barely nod, lost in the aftershocks of her orgasm. Slowly she withdrew her fingers from herself, sagging into the chair in contentment.

“I think I might need another shower.”

* * *

 

Three hours and thirty five minutes later, Idina Menzel was bowing to the sound of a thunderous standing ovation.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo I'm just going to leave this out there. If you want to know more about what I was thinking PM me or ask in the comments, there's so much 
> 
> Inspired by a gif by tumblr user plovercrest, and partially requested by tumblr user the-frozen-nutella


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